Wow, it’s really not been your week if you are a spoiled athlete who believes that you are beyond reproach or above the law. And since it’s rare that I get to say that, let’s now recap the “Classless/Homicidal/Clumsy Jocks Got Their Comeuppance” that occurred this past week:
1. You may have heard that Plaxico Burress shot himself. In the club. In the leg, in the club to be specific. It turns out that none of the following are good ideas:
- Taking a gun to a nightclub
- Storing said gun your waistband
- Wearing sweatpants
- Storing a gun in the waistband of a pair of sweatpants
- Drinking while carrying a gun
- Drinking while carrying a gun that is unregistered in the state where you, your sweatpants and the gun are currently located
- Grabbing for said gun through your sweatpants when it inevitably dislodges itself from the waistband area of your sweatpants and starts decending down the leg of your sweatpants
- While performing this manuever, grabbing the gun in the trigger region of said gun
- Also while performing this maneuver and grabbing the gun in the trigger region of said gun, holding a glass of wine in your other hand
- Not putting down your glass of wine to free up more than one gun-grabbing hand
- Putting innocent teammate in position of being a possible accomplice, as this kind of situation is a felony weapons charge kind of situation
- Immediately calling team doctors and team personnel, which could later implicate them
- Inquiring as to where one could be treated discreetly in a non-hospital setting, knowing that hospitals must report any gunshot victims they treat
- Receiving treatment at hospital emergency room but offering a false name to hospital staff
- Being a doctor that treats a gunshot victim in your emergency room but then neglects to report said victim to the authorities
- Already being the pain in the ass member of the team that doesn’t show up to practice and doesn’t play
2. You may have heard that OJ Simpson was sentenced to a minimum of 15 years in prison today for reprising his role as a bumbling idiot that he has played in such projects as Naked Gun, Naked Gun 2 ½ and his own life since 1994. It turns out that none of the following are good ideas:
- Robbing people
- Robbing people while an accomplice brandishes a gun
- Robbing people while an accomplice brandishes a gun you requested he bring
- Robbing people you know of memoriblia of yours that they now rightly own
- Losing said memoribilia as a result of a civil suit settlement in which you were found guilty of murdering your ex-wife and an innocent bystander
- Murdering your ex-wife
- Murdering the mother of your children
- Murdering an innocent bystander
- Commiting perjury
- Beating said ex-wife violently for years before you murdered her
- Only confessing to being guilty of said murder, of which you were aquitted, when you write a book about it for your own profit
3. You may have heard that Sean Avery, toolbag supreme, was suspended for making comments about a player on the opposing team dating his “sloppy seconds” in a pre-game interview. Let’s face it, it would only be surprising if Sean Avery didn’t say something like that. Let’s not forget that the only limit he puts on his own abhorent behavior is not ejaculating on a 60 year old grandmother's face. It turns out that none of the following are good ideas:
- Being Sean Avery
- Being Sean Avery and alienating your entire team
- Being Sean Avery and have already been kicked off the LA Kings for said behavior
- Being Sean Avery and not being a good enough player to afford you the ability to run your mouth as you so desire
- Being Sean Avery and not being able to find one person in the entire National Hockey League who has a single compliment to pay you personlly or professionally
- Being Sean Avery and having a butterface
- Being Sean Avery and having to figure out how you will get the same media attention you are used to receiving whilst playing in the minor leagues
And on that note, I am now going to start getting ready for my birthday party tonight. It’s a fancy dress affair so you know what that means….Wear your nicest (non-bloodstained) sweatpants, grab a glass of wine, maybe put on your best pair of leather gloves and ski mask and preen in front of the mirror for an hour before you leave, bemoaning a world full of your sloppy seconds. It’s time to par-tay.
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